


Every Me, Every You

by nerdwegian



Series: Tumblr Prompts [28]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flirting, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Help," Coulson says, holding out a micro drive.</p><p>(Tumblr prompt: What if Clint was a SHIELD tech?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Me, Every You

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laura for the beta.

When Clint returns to his office from the vending machines, there's a guy in a suit standing by his doorway.

"Excuse me," says the guy, "do you know when Mr. Barton will be back?"

"Right now," Clint says, peering at the guy's Level Six badge. "Agent Coulson. What can I do you for?"

"Oh, sorry," Coulson says as Clint opens the door and leads him into the office, "I thought you were an agent, because—nevermind, it's not important. Agent Hill said you were the guy to talk to about this new—thing?"

Clint sets his snacks down on his desk, kicks aside some of the mess he's got floating around, and looks at the little device Coulson's holding out. "Oh man, you got one of the new communicators? That thing is so fucking awesome!"

"It would be more awesome if it actually had a stable uplink to command central," Coulson says with a sigh.

"Eh, we'll get it fixed up," Clint says confidently, then winks at Coulson, because that's what he does. Coulson's ears turn red, but his smile doesn't waver.

*

"Help," Coulson says, holding out a micro drive.

Clint looks from the micro drive to Coulson's face and back to the micro drive. "I've got a little bit of a backlog right now, if you can come back tomorrow morning and pick it up…?"

"It's urgent," Coulson says, his words clipped. "The information on this drive is pretty time sensitive, but we think it might have gotten damaged during transport. We need you to recover as much from it as you can."

Clint looks at his pile of work and considers. 

"All right," he agrees, taking the micro drive from Coulson. "But only because you asked so nicely."

Coulson doesn't look amused, but he also doesn't punch Clint in the face, so Clint considers it a win.

"Oh," Coulson says as an afterthought, "I also have this. But that's not a rush job."

The communicator Clint fixed only like two weeks ago lands on Clint's desk with a thump.

Clint's eyebrows climb upwards. "That didn't last long."

Coulson's jaw does a funny thing. "Just fix it." Then, taking a deep breath, he adds, "Please," in a more relaxed tone.

Clint smiles and says again, sincerely this time, "Since you asked so nicely."

*

Clint's in the middle of an absolutely _bitching_ air guitar solo, when he jumps around and suddenly finds himself face to face with Coulson. Clint jumps about a mile.

"Hi," Coulson says, smiling. Or at least, Clint thinks he does. It's hard to tell over the music.

Grinning sheepishly, Clint turns off the music and gestures lamely. "Sorry."

"Oh, no, I understand," Coulson says, and something in his face tells Clint that he's very amused. "Can't let a guitar solo like that go to waste."

"Did you need something, Agent Coulson?" Clint says, picking up a screwdriver and twirling it between his fingers. "Did you break another communicator?"

"I didn't break it," Coulson says, a little too quickly.

"Sure," Clint says, and it's his turn to be amused.

"You're needed in Accounting," Coulson says. "They've got network problems."

"You running errands for Accounting now?" Clint asks with a sly grin. "I didn't think that was part of your job responsibilities, Mr. Level," he glances at Coulson's badge, "oooh, Level Seven, fancy, you got a promotion, congratulations, dude!"

Coulson just looks at him in silence, and Clint clears his throat awkwardly. "…I mean, sir."

"Figured I'd save them the trip, since I was going down here anyway," Coulson says. Then, looking slightly embarrassed about it, Coulson fishes a communicator out of his pocket.

Clint considers taking the high road for about two seconds, before deciding that he doesn't care, and breaking into laughter.

"If you could have it working by tomorrow, that would be great," Coulson says, but Clint's laughing too hard to say anything, so he just leaves with a charmingly embarrassed smile.

*

"Okay, now you're just fucking with me," Clint says, deadpan, as Coulson holds out his broken communicator again.

Coulson gives Clint a nervous glance, and Clint takes the communicator from his hand. "If it's any consolation," Clint says, "I hear they're rolling out new models next quarter."

"They are?" Coulson looks oddly curious about that, and Clint nods.

"Yeah. Smaller models. Ops wants to be able to implant the tech into other tech. Communicators in watches, computers, cell phones. I'm sure you know the drill."

Coulson nods. "Yeah. I do."

They look at each other for a long moment, before Clint clears his throat and gestures with the communicator. "Anyway, I can take care of this right now if you want to wait?"

"I won't bother you?" Coulson asks.

"Nah, it's no problem," Clint says, and winks at Coulson. Once again, his ears turn red, but Clint thinks he looks pleased anyway.

Coulson sits next to Clint and watches him work, occasionally asking questions. It's on the tip of Clint's tongue to ask the man out for real, so he can stop coming by with his bullshit communicator excuses, but—what if he's read this situation all wrong? In the end, Coulson leaves with a functional communicator and without a date.

*

Coulson doesn't come by again. Clint isn't sure why. It happens all the time; agents get reassigned or quit or get promoted, or they—

Clint stops his train of thought right there, because it leads nowhere good.

Coulson probably got relocated somewhere nicer.

*

Clint's just packing up for the day and getting ready to leave, when Coulson walks into his office again, hands in his pockets and a careful smile on his face.

"Holy shit," Clint says, then quickly adds, "uh, sir."

"Hi Clint," Coulson says.

Clint's not sure how to react. "Do we hug?" he asks. "I don't know the protocol here, I haven't seen you for years."

"Yeah, it's—it's a long story. Sorry about that," Coulson says, and Clint pretends he's not actually disappointed there apparently won't be any hugs.

"I guess those new communicators really worked out for you," Clint jokes.

"Do you want to go get something to eat with me?" Coulson asks.

Clint has to take a second to process the sudden subject change, and then another second to calm his heart, which is suddenly pounding in his chest.

"That's… that's a little presumptuous," he says, trying his best to be indignant about it. "You can't just walk in here after like three, four years, whatever, and assume that I'll still be—" and then he sees the kicked-puppy look on Coulson's face, and Clint can't keep it up, "—single, yes, I'm single, I'll go out with you, oh my god."

Coulson looks cautiously optimistic again. "Really?"

Clint tilts his head. "Does it mean you'll stop breaking shit just to come see me?"

Coulson's shoulders hunch up a little, but he doesn't stop smiling.

End.


End file.
